


Call Me Master

by Darksidekelz



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Genre: Less-Than Healthy Relationship Dynamics, M/M, Medical Procedures, Robo-gore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-07-15 12:06:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16062788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darksidekelz/pseuds/Darksidekelz
Summary: It seemed as though he'd lost everything that fateful day he'd dared to meet with the Senate.  Orion Pax had betrayed him to serve the very mechs they'd fought against for so long, and Soundwave, injured in the ensuing battle, has been out of commission for days now.  Stripped of his two closest confidants, Megatron finds himself plagued by guilt, doubt, and regret.A call from a mysterious Vosian ambassador, however, may be just what he needs to transform him from a brokenhearted fool into the warlord everyone is counting on him to be.





	1. A Warrior in Defeat

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a sexy oneshot; then plot happened. : x As such, the rating may be bumped up down the line; we'll see.
> 
> Note: This takes place in the same universe as [I'll Follow You Forever](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5762371/chapters/13277374) (Directly following Chapter 13). While writing that fic, I struggled with wanting to convey certain events that were simply outside of Soundwave's perception, so I've long been toying with oneshots from other characters' perspectives. The first meeting between Megatron and Starscream in particular, was something I've been wanting to get to for awhile now.
> 
> Anywho, for those who don't want to read the monster that is I'll Follow You Forever, I think, for the most part, you _should_ be fine. The first chapter does reference my take on the 'Megatron speaks to the Senate' bit in his backstory, but I don't see any of the subsequent chapters relying on events from that story.

It hurt to see him like this.  

Soundwave had always come across as untouchable - like a benevolent deity who had, through some miracle of fate, chosen to grace Megatron with his undying loyalty and devotion.  It had been a stupid impression, born from ignorance and admiration, and Megatron hated himself for ever daring to conceive of the notion - for every hurtful word he’d thrown at his closest friend - songs of praise that, in retrospect, must have felt like daggers, burying themselves deep within his frame.

Soundwave was not a god.  Recent events had more than proven him to be a mech, vulnerable like any other - competent, sure, but capable of pettiness, jealousy, fear, and failure.  Capable of dying.

But despite the now clear nature of Soundwave’s weaknesses, they still paled in comparison to those of Megatron.  Soundwave had enough sense to detect a trap when it was dropped gift-wrapped on his doorstep. He’d warned Megatron at every step of the way, pointed out every mistake as Megatron made it, and still, Megatron hadn’t bothered listening.  The nightmare that had been their assault on Ratbat Tower; the debacle at the Grand Oratory, where he had blindly fallen into the Senate’s plan to expose his misdeeds to the world; the entirety of his affair with Orion Pax - every one of those was Megatron’s fault.  He’d been a blind, lovestruck idiot, and Soundwave had paid the price for his folly. The least he could do now was suffer through seeing him in such a pitiful state. 

Their ill-advised trip to Iacon had left Soundwave, by and large, without a frame - Shockwave had painstakingly worked to remove all of the areas contaminated by rust, and even then, there were still numerous parts that had straight-up been destroyed in their desperate race to reach their ground bridge ride back home.  At this point, the scant remnants of Soundwave’s frame lied disassembled on a medical slab, loose wiring spilling across the table in a gruesomely chaotic manner, while his spark pulsed weakly from within the confines of a bulky stabilizer; his frame simply was in no state to support it at the moment. He hadn’t so much as stirred since the return to Kaon.

“Despite appearances, he will make a full recovery,” Shockwave noted, a surprisingly empathetic response from a mech that didn’t seem to put much stock in emotions.

“So you say,” Megatron replied.  He had no follow up; he was in no state of mind for witty banter at the moment.  By all rights,  _ he _ should have been the one on that table.

“His frame underwent massive damage, and had been failing for months now.  Alt mode reformatting is always a . . . delicate matter. Even if they do have the skill, there is no way underworld medics have the facilities or training required to successfully perform such an operation.  This was always going to happen, one way or another.”

Megatron’s glare should have been enough to cut off that particular line of conversation, but Shockwave was admirably, and infuriatingly stubborn.

“Still, his spark’s undergone enough trauma as it is.  I’m not comfortable with him maintaining an alt mode in the C weight class; it is too taxing for a spark of his type.  He’s going to need a new one.”

“What about his original alt mode?” Megatron asked, without taking his eyes off of his broken companion.

“That is also difficult,” Shockwave admitted.  “The circumstances that led to the creation of Soundwave and his brother were very particular - I and my team were on commission from the late Senator Ratbat, and were given near infinite funding and resources in order to create the apex of living-surveillance technology.  Right now, however, I lack a both funding, and resources, not to mention a team. What I do have is myself, situated in a dirty back room in the so-called medical wing of the coliseum, located in the toxic depths of Kaon’s underground, and forced to pick through the remains of former gladiators and organ-snatching victims for whatever few usable parts are available.  We are lucky that I still have my tools from the Crystal City.”

Megatron wanted to hit the obstinate little freak, but he didn’t - couldn’t.  Shockwave was right, after all. At great risk to his personal welfare, he’d traded in his own glamorous life in the employ of a senator to join what was, at its core, a workers’ rebellion.  Why he had agreed to Megatron’s terms was anyone’s guess, but at the moment, he was the best asset the Decepticons had, if they wanted any chance of fixing Soundwave.

“What are you getting at, Shockwave?” Megatron sighed, at last averting his eyes from the sorry frame on the table.

“I was hoping to get your feedback.”

How typical of a mech from the surface - dismissing those who experienced the world differently as being somehow incapable of navigating it.  “Soundwave is the one who will have to live with this decision,” he shot back, his voice more terse than he’d intended. “I am not qualified to make it for him.  Why not ask his Symbionts? They know his needs better than I.” Clearly. If recent events had taught him anything, it was that Megatron didn’t know Soundwave at all.

“Perhaps,” Shockwave conceded, “but they’ve been . . . difficult to convince.  Rumble and Buzzsaw believe that he should retain his current alt mode, and Ravage has been elusive.  You’re the only reasonable candidate to make such a decision at the moment.”

Megatron didn’t like that one bit.  He’d already proven his judgment was shaky at best.  And here he was, the leader of an army. Here he was, forced to make decisions that shaped the future of every mech on the planet.  Here he was, forced to make decisions that shaped the future of the only mech on the planet he still cared about.

“You don’t have to decide today,” Shockwave said, as though sensing Megatron’s distress.  He was far more perceptive of emotional disarray than Megatron had given him credit for. It was a good trait to be aware of for the future.

“No?” Megatron replied, throwing a glance over his shoulder.

“With his current condition, it will take months to make a full recovery, and I still have plenty to work on that is not dependent on having a particular alt mode in place.  If you would like to take some time to think it over, or perhaps discuss the matter with his Symbionts, you are more than welcome to. Still, it would behoove us to resolve this matter in a timely fashion.  I would not want to keep him in stasis any longer than is necessary.”

“Thank you, Shockwave.”  Megatron sighed, at last turning away from the medical slab.  “I will reflect on the matter and get back to you as soon as I am able.  In the meantime, you clearly have plenty of work to do; I won’t hold you any longer.”

He didn’t hear whatever it was that Shockwave said in response; he was already retreating from that grim, oppressive operating room like the coward he was.  It was despicable behavior, but there was nothing else for him to do; he wasn’t a medic, and he wasn’t a bio-tech engineer; he couldn’t help Soundwave.

The hallway was poorly lit, and far more cramped than it had any business being.  Megatron was just small enough to comfortably fit provided he didn’t move too much, but he’d seen coliseum staff struggling to cart larger gladiators down these hallways time and again over the years.  It was a disgrace, and one more thing he’d need to rectify, now that their movement was openly fighting. His comrades were laying siege upon Upper Kaon even now, and if all went as planned, it would be theirs shortly.  With any luck, they would take Tarn and Tesarus as well. With proper cities would come proper facilities - a proper hospital for Soundwave’s recovery - something brighter, cleaner, and better equipped. 

It was almost surreal to think about.

_ Ping.  Ping. Ping. _

He nearly didn’t recognize the sound of his own comm.  It sounded more often than not these days, and it wasn’t as though he’d gone a particularly long time without it prior to declaring war on the Senate.  He and Orion Pax had often called each other in the early evening, and spoken until dawn’s light set in (he’d made sure to erase every one of those call logs from the archives of his commlink the moment he’d had the chance).  But in this place, so far away from the hustle and bustle of the Decepticon movement - this place, underground with only Shockwave and the battered body of his most trusted companion - this place divorced from time and space, it was easy to forget everything, and live in the moment.  The comm was his wake up call - it was time to return to the real world, with obligations, and responsibility, and a thousand different mechs asking for a thousand different things at once. It nearly made him regret starting the movement at all.

He answered.

“This is Megatron.”  His voice was gruff and detached as it always was when he stepped into ‘Leader of the Decepticons’ mode.

“ _ Megatron _ ,” said an unfamiliar voice on the end - deep and gravelly and yet strangely alluring.

“Who is this?” Megatron growled, stopping his continued advance down the coliseum corridor.  “How did you get this number?”

“ _ I didn’t mean to startle you,” _ said the voice, taking on a subservient quality that immediately grated on Megatron’s already shot nerves.  “ _ This is Ambassador Starscream.  You may remember me from the Grand Oratory?” _

The plating of Megatron’s chest and shoulders flared in fury.  The last thing he wanted to think about was what had happened at the Grand Oratory.  The betrayal, the chaos - he’d nearly died - would have, had Soundwave not stepped in when he had.  Pit, Soundwave had prepared the Decepticon invasion that ultimately saved their lives as well. It must have been a proud moment for him, but for Megatron, the day would live on in infamy as the day of his greatest failure.

“Sorry, I don’t recall.”  Whoever this Ambassador Starscream was, his face had been lost in the madness of the night.  “And I am not inclined to trust you - I certainly never gave you this frequency, so you’d better give me a damn good reason so as not to hang up on you here and now.”

“ _ What?!” _ Starscream shrieked on the other end.  “ _ How could you not remember - _ ”

“I’m waiting, Starscream,” Megatron interrupted.  He had no patience for a prissy senator - or ambassador - or whatever.  And he definitely did not trust this vain creature. Still, there was a chance this call wouldn’t be a complete waste of time, if only a small one.

“ _ I want to help you,”  _ Starscream insisted, his voice charming once more.  As though Megatron would ever believe such a thing.

“Do you now?” he scoffed.

“ _ Honestly, this isn’t how I was expecting this conversation to go, _ ” was the nervous reply.  “ _ But the short answer is yes, I do.” _

“How very nice,” Megatron continued, still without sincerity.  “And tell me, Ambassador, I am supposed to trust you because . . . ?”

“ _ Because I can get you Vos.” _

It was enough of a shock to catch even Megatron off guard.  Vague memories came trickling back in of an attractive, haughty Seeker being chastised by the Senate for his polity’s disregard of propriety.  Admittedly, it wasn’t a particularly damning memory for Starscream. “Is that so?” Megatron said, at last willing to play the game. “I’m listening.”

“ _ I can’t say much over comms - you never know who else might be listening.”   _ It seemed an unnecessarily paranoid thing for any high ranking member of society to say, but on the other hand, Megatron’s right hand was a mech who really could listen in on commlines anywhere in the world with an effortless ease.  Clearly it wasn’t so far fetched a concept.

_ “What I will say is that the goals of our glorious country and your . . . political movement are not, shall we say, mutually exclusive.  If I can meet with you in person, then perhaps the two of us could discuss our shared future - if that is something you’re amenable to, that is.” _

“‘The two of us,’ you say?” Megatron sneered.  “I take it that this is to be a private meeting?”

_ “That’s - ah - that’s correct,” _ said Starscream, as though the implications of his request were only just beginning to dawn on him.  

“Do you take me for a fool?”

_ “Look, I know how it sounds, but these are very . . . volatile times we live in.  It would not due for the leadership of a sovereign nation to be caught in the open with public enemy number one.  Not while said sovereign nation is still officially allied with the senate.” _

“You know, Starscream, you still haven’t made a case for me, your so-called ‘public enemy number one,’ to trust you, a self-proclaimed ‘ally of the senate.’”

An tense sigh sung through the line, and a grinding sound that was probably the gnashing of teeth.  How easily this fool was played.

_ “Look, bring the whole of the Decepticon army, if that’s what it takes to make the great Megatron feel safe.  I’m just a single Seeker, barely twelve tons.  _ You _ could take me out just by looking at me the wrong way, I’m sure - but by all means, I don’t care who you bring, so long as news of our liaison doesn’t get back to Iacon.” _

Of all the things Starscream could have said, he’d managed to stumble upon the one thing that worked in his favor.  Megatron was no fool, but he was proud - an undefeated gladiator in the most successful career Kaon’s coliseum had ever seen.  He was not going to be threatened by a single scrawny Seeker, or a trine of them, or even the whole Primus-damned army of Vos! 

He’d taken the coward’s way out for too long now; played with the pacifists, tried to keep his hands clean - but in the end, it was an impossible endeavor.  His hands had always looked best covered in the lifeblood of his opponent anyway. It was time to return to the mech he truly was: the fearless warrior - powerful, fierce, and cunning enough to know when the rules needed to be broken.  If Starscream could get him Vos, then it was worth the risk of meeting with him. It was the least the leader of the Decepticons could do - for the thousands of mechs who were counting on him to be a better mech than he’d proven himself to be, for the dozens of mechs he’d failed already, for the one mech who mattered most.

“Give me a time and a place.”


	2. Scheming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream is confident that his plan will work.

“This is a terrible idea,” Thundercracker complained.  Of course, Starscream didn’t particularly care about what Thundercracker had to say.  He was smart and capable, but a bit of a killjoy when it came to doing anything out of the ordinary, and his griping at Starscream’s numerous schemes was never a welcome prospect.

“I’m sorry, I think your vocalizer is glitching again.  You said, ‘This is a great idea,’ right?”

“You know what I said, Starscream,” Thundercracker huffed, rising from his seat on Starscream’s voyager-class recharge slab to go sulk somewhere a little less close.

“And you should know not to worry,” Starscream shot back, taking advantage of the extra room to sprawl out across the luxurious surface.  “My plans always work out in the end.” His lanky arm brushed against something hard, unyielding, warm. Oh yes, Skywarp was here too. He let red optics slide open to fix a glare at his younger trinemate’s mischievously grinning face.  “I don’t recall giving you permission to sit on my bed.’

Skywarp rolled his eyes.  “Uh, we’re trinemates?” he said, though it sounded more like a question.  “Trinemates share everything, bro.”

“Tell that to Thundercracker then,” Starscream snorted, popping back up.  “There’s no reward without a little bit of risk.”

“That’s nice,” said Thundercracker.  “I’ll take the way things are over your suicidal scheme.”

“He’s right,” Skywarp added, smiling as though he thought he were being helpful.  “It really is a suicidal scheme.”

It wasn’t a suicidal scheme.  It was dangerous to be sure, and if it went wrong, it would end very poorly for all involved, but if nothing else, Starscream was confident in his ability to worm his way out of any situation.  And with his end goal in mind, he was more than willing to take on a little bit of danger, reputation for cowardice or no.

On the surface, the Tower of Vos was a palace, and as the crown prince, Starscream led a pampered life.  Everything he could have wanted for was dropped in his lap - furniture and textiles, mods and accessories, fine fuel and pretty trinkets and the latest in Vosian technology.  But it all came at a dark cost. Skywarp and Thundercracker could abide by it; they weren’t trine leader; their responsibilities were fewer, their punishments lesser, but for Starscream . . .

He shuddered, casting an unconscious glance at his trembling talons.  There was no need to be afraid anymore. He’d weaseled his way out of the worst aspect of his situation, just as he would weasel his way out of the one that currently plagued him.  Skywarp and Thundercracker would never truly understand why he did the things he did, his need to annihilate everyone who had ever hurt him, had ever made him feel afraid. But they would go along with it, regardless.  That was what trinemates were for, after all.

But he didn’t want to think about the past, nor did he want to think about the present.  What he longed for was the future - what he longed for was a certain powerful leader-of-the-people type that had taken the world by storm.  Megatron was the key to Starscream’s prosperous future, the piece of the puzzle that had been missing for so long. He’d heard that god among mechs speak at the Grand Oratory - poised and confident and so very determined.  As guarded as Starscream was, the power in Megatron’s poetry had left him utterly defenseless, instilling within him with a deep, visceral desire for more.

But desire wasn’t all that ruled him.  Megatron was useful - the fresh-faced leader of a fledgling military movement.  He and his Decepticons were in a vulnerable position, a position that Starscream could take advantage of.  The unsolidified state of their leadership would leave plenty of room for a charismatic charmer like Starscream to slip in and take power, and though Megatron was smart, Starscream had no doubts that he was smarter.  If this all went according to plan, he’d become master to the most powerful puppet imaginable, commanding the rebellion from behind the scenes, and leaving a trail of devastation in his wake. From such a protected position, no one would ever be able to hurt him again.

“Hey, you okay?” Skywarp asked, leaning in far too close.  Starscream flinched, smacking his trinemate away. “What? It was just a question!”

“You know better than to interrupt our esteemed leader while he’s daydreaming,” Thundercracker snorted.

“Yes, thank you, Thundercracker.  Your attitude is appreciated as always,” Starscream groaned, crawling to his feet.

“Anytime, Screamer.”

“Um, so you  _ are _ okay then, right?” Skywarp pressed.  “You were shaking there for a minute, and I know how you get sometimes, so I thought -”

“I’m fine,” Starscream snapped, more harshly than he’d meant.  As fiery as his relationship with his trinemates presented itself, the three really did care about one another.  Skywarp didn’t know when to leave well-enough alone, but he was also well-meaning; he didn’t deserve to be yelled at.  Not now, anyway. “It’s passed. I don’t want to dwell on it.”

“Okay,” Skywarp replied, though he sounded unconvinced.  “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Starscream replied.  “And I also say that this plan is perfect.”

“Yeah, you do say that too,” Thundercracker frowned.  “You keep saying that. It doesn’t make it true.”

Starscream laughed and sauntered across the room to pull Thundercracker into the most threatening one-armed embrace he could muster.  “When have I ever failed us, Thundercracker?”

“I’m still not convinced that stunt we pulled with the Prime was all that wise . . .” he trailed off, his gaze drifting to Starscream’s talons, which were now digging sharply into his shoulder plating.  “I mean, it’s worked out alright for us so far, I guess.”

“It has,” Starscream agreed, letting his grip fall slack.  “So glad we agree.” He pulled away, putting a more respectful distance between the two of them.

Thundercracker was still grimacing.  “I just don’t see how backing a rag-tag bunch of gladiators and factory workers and empties is going to end well.  Sure, they’re competent enough to have survived this long, which is longer than anybody thought they would, but that doesn’t mean they stand a chance against the full military might of the Senate.”

“And I don’t see why a low-class rebellion needs to stay a low-class rebellion,” Starscream shrugged with a calculated air of indifference.  “Vos has long butted heads with the Senate; if they didn’t have their hands full with a ‘rag-tag bunch of gladiators and factory workers and empties,’ then you know they would be turning their eyes towards our lovely,  _ independent _ nation.  The way I see it, helping the Decepticons is Vos’s best chance of maintaining its identity.”

“Or it’ll lead to its destruction,” Thundercracker grumbled.  “You know, one or the other.”

“You don’t think they can win?” Starscream said sweetly.

“Not really.”

“I can see why you’d think that, I suppose.  But you weren’t there that day at the Grand Oratory.  You didn’t see them in action. This wasn’t some rag-tag group of misfits with a grudge.  These were warriors - armed, trained, and ready to die for a cause they believe in. The Senate may have the firepower, but it is not so superior as one might assume, and what the Cons lack in armaments, they make up for in spirit.  They’re fighting for their lives, fighting to achieve an end that they indisputably believe to be just. What is the Senate fighting for? To maintain the status quo? I’ll give you a hint - the ones who benefit from the status quo are not the ones who will be out on the front lines.  They’re not the ones expected to throw down their lives, they’re not the ones who are going to win the war. When it comes down to it, the loyalty and dedication of the Decepticons will more than make up for their slight disadvantage in firepower.”

He believed every word he was saying.  Starscream had always been good at reading situations; it was how he’d survived so long in his own turbulent one.  Regardless, though the Senate had succeeded in jumpstarting the war, they’d also stalled long enough to secure their own dismal fate.  Cybertron as a whole may have still been reeling from Megatron’s betrayal, but it was a still a Cybertron whose eyes had been opened to the grime hiding just beneath its pristine surface.  The Senate would be hard-pressed to find anyone willing to fight to keep things the same - not now.

Meanwhile, the Decepticons were doing well from themselves already; with the might of the natural fortress that was Vos at their disposal, and Starscream’s superior leadership from behind the scenes, there was no chance they could fail.  The Senate would fall. The world Zeta Prime had painstakingly built would fall, and then, when the time came, the king of Vos would die too. And from the ashes of this wretched, broken world, Starscream would rise up, his resilience one more victory against the worst Cybertron had to offer.  If there was anything worth dying for, this was it - his supreme leadership, his ultimate revenge.

“Wow, yeah!  You’re right,” said Skywarp, scurrying from the bed to join his trinemate.  “The Senate ain’t got nothing on the Cons! I always hated those prissy gear-shafts anyway.”

Skywarp was the easily-swayed one, but Starscream’s words hadn’t bypassed his wiser trinemate either.  Though he had averted his eyes to better hide his expression, Starscream could see the upward turn to Thundercracker’s lips.  The little bastard was smiling!

“So, Thundercracker?  Are you ready to stop being a stubborn aft and join me in a smiling future?”

A low chuckle rumbled in Thundercracker’s engine, and his wings gave a bounce of mirth.  At last, he met Starscream’s eyes, a look of resignation pasted across his face. “I never could outtalk you, Screamer,” he sighed.  “I still think you’re a crazy aft that’s gonna get us all killed, but what can I say? I’m in.”

~~~

Starscream may have earned the approval of his trinemates, but though their support was appreciated, it didn’t particularly help in his current situation.  He may not have been a mech known for his honor, but this first meeting with Megatron was about establishing trust; breaking his word and showing up with an entourage would run counter to what he was trying to achieve.

And so, Starscream found himself in Kaon’s 7th District (courtesy of a hastily dismissed Skywarp).  His work in politics had seen him travel regularly between the twenty-four polities, but never before had he visited an Underground district.  Five minutes of walking through the soot-filled air, and he could understand why people were revolting. He could feel the particles clogging up his vents already; he was going to have to dump himself in an oil bath the second he got back to Vos.

In the meantime, he could suffer a little discomfort for the sake of his ultimate goal.  Towards that end, he made his way down the grimey, unlit streets, scrutinizing each building for any sign of what he sought.

_ “You operate out of Lower Kaon, if I’m not mistaken,”  _ he’d said over the comm, when Megatron had prompted him for a time and place.  “ _ I admit I’m not familiar with the area.  Why don’t you pick a location that makes you feel nice and safe; whatever you choose, I’ll be there.” _

In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have been so trusting of a gladiator-turned-warlord.  With his polished plating and sleek, aerial frame, Starscream stuck out in this ramshackle neighborhood like a misaligned strut.  Worse yet, although the streets were empty, he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him fumble his way from building to building - a rich little tourist, lost in the roughest part of Cybertron’s most dangerous polity.  At this rate, getting mugged was the best outcome.

But Starscream didn’t get mugged.  The streets remained empty, and he found his destination, the alley between a decrepit bar called  _ The Dancing Minibot,  _ and a three-story residential building with all of the windows blown out.  Both had been painted black by the grime in the air. Starscream coughed in a vain effort to clear his vents, then slipped into the alley, alone as ever - at least he’d thought so.  The voice that called out from every direction in the narrow space said otherwise.

“So, you came after all,” the voice laughed, deep and mirthful.  “I’m surprised.”

He would have felt more confident had he been able to see his conversation partner, but he wasn’t about to let his fear show.  “Megatron, is that you? I know I said you could pick our meeting place, but I was expecting something a little less . . . hmm, well, with less of a ‘no one can hear you scream’ vibe.  Does anyone even live out here?”

The deep rumble of an engine sounded behind him, the crunch of footsteps in the sediment-covered ground.  Slowly, Starscream turned around to look upon his quarry.

He was taller than Starscream had expected.  Looking down on him from the high seats of the Grand Oratory had done the mech a disservice.  Otherwise, he was exactly as Starscream remembered - broad, powerful, imposing, the perfect Cybertronian frame, wasted on a low-class miner.  

“Why hello there,” Starscream said, absent-minded.

“See something you like, Ambassador?” Megatron replied with a knowing smile.

_ Frag! _

“There’s a definite possibility,” Starscream smiled back.  He may as well roll with his mistake. “But that’s not what we’re here to talk about, now is it?”

“Of course.”  He began circling Starscream in the cramped space, with fluid movements that only a master warrior could manage, and Starscream followed, unwilling to let himself be struck from behind.  Once he’d reached the 180 degree mark, cutting off Starscream’s escape back to the relatively-familiar, Megatron stopped, hands folded over his chest, and a predatory grin on his face. “I recall you boasting that you could arrange an alliance between the Decepticons and Vos.  As to your sincerity, however, well - that remains to be determined.”

“I assure you, my offer was a genuine one,” Starscream replied, mimicking the posture as best he could with his own lanky arms.

“So you say,” Megatron laughed.  “And yet, I can’t for the life of me understand why a powerful political figure like yourself would make such an offer.  What’s in this for Starscream?”

Starscream chose his next words with the utmost care.  Megatron couldn’t be allowed to know everything, but he would never cooperate if he wasn’t told  _ anything _ .  “Is it so difficult to imagine that Starscream disapproves of the current world order just as you do?”

Megatron cocked his head.  “Does he now? Tell me then, does that mean you act alone?  I did notice that your title was ‘ambassador.’ Ramjet is the senator of Vos, is he not?  You would scheme behind his back and sell out your own country to the Decepticons - why is this?  I somehow doubt your motives come from a place of compassion.”

He was a perceptive one, wasn’t he?  Certainly more so than Starscream had expected.  Still, he was not yet outclassed. Starscream was nothing, if not a quick thinker.  “Your reputation for wit is not unearned, I see. Yes, I am working alone. The senator does not know I’m here.”

“Of course,” Megatron snorted.  “So you intend to waste my time and efforts conspiring against a nation that is notoriously difficult to invade - one that is, incidentally, not a high priority target at this time, so that you can take over - I assume that is your goal here.”

“Megatron,” Starscream laughed, far more cheerily than he felt, “just because I’ve gone behind the senator’s back in this instance doesn’t mean that I’m suggesting you engage in conspiracy.  As the crown prince of Vos, I can assure you that its loyalties do not lie with the Senate.”

“Is that so?”  He didn’t sound convinced.

“We’ve always operated independently.  You were there at the Grand Oratory that day - His Majesty, or Senator Ramjet, as you know him, didn’t even bother to show up; it’s beneath him.  And on the opposing side, our disrespect of Senate rule has long been a point of contention between us. Honestly, I was glad when this whole revolution thing started up.  Before that,  _ we _ were the most pressing issue on the table.”  The Decepticons had been a convenience in further ways as well - they were the perfect scapegoat to lay the blame on for certain . . . indiscretions on Starscream’s part.  

“So you believe Vos is willing to risk everything to help a bunch of inexperienced Grounders?” Megatron snorted.  Despite the derisive tone, however, Starscream felt he was getting through.

“Grounders, perhaps not,” Starscream admitted, “but fellow flight frames?  Well, they’d have to help, if that were the case.”

Megatron cocked his head, confusion flickering in his eyes.  Good. 

“Go on, say it,” Starscream urged, smiling sweetly.

“The majority of Decepticons are land-based vehicles.  We both know this, and Vos does too. So what is it you think you’re planning here?”

“So glad you asked!”  It was a bold move, but Starscream dared to saunter closer, his posture unguarded and open.  In response, Megatron closed in further on himself. How delightful, to have such a notorious titan on the defensive!  

“Tell me, Megatron, do you think that only flight frames emerge from Vos’s Well?”

“I’d never thought about it,” he begrudgingly admitted.  “But your tone implies that this is not the case.”

“Correct,” Starscream replied.  “But Vos is the flight capital of Cybertron, and is intensely proud of the fact.  No Vosian would ever be caught dead sporting a ground frame.”

Megatron’s frown deepened.  “What are you getting at Starscream?  I’m tired of playing your game.”

Pity.  He’d been having so much fun, too.  “Reformatting,” Starscream huffed, rolling his eyes.  “Widely believed to be impossible, I know, but Vos mastered the ‘ground-based to flight-based alt-mode’ transition long ago.  And if, say, I happened to provide you with the details of how to achieve such a thing, and your Decepticons started converting to flight frames, well, one of a few beneficial things will happen.

“One: the Senate catches on to what Vos has done, and turns on Vos, forcing Vos to ally with the Senate’s biggest enemy, or risk the Senate seeing them as the greater threat.  Two: the Senate doesn’t catch on, and turns to the flight capital of Cybertron with assistance in handling the influx of opposing fliers. Vos’s pride would never let them support grounders over fliers, regardless of original coding, so with the situation now brought to their attention, they would be honor-bound to protect their new ‘cousins.’  Three: Vos realizes what I’ve done, and preemptively allies themselves with the Decepticons to prevent their own people from knowing that the beloved crown prince is not acting in tandem with their less popular king. Four: there is not drastic change of perception within either Vos or the Senate, however, the flight frames provide you an aerial advantage over the Primal Vanguard while you and I negotiate with Ramjet.  I anticipate some combination of the above, myself, but you must admit, any edge you can get over the military’s better-trained and better-disciplined forces is an edge you could use.”

Megatron’s face fell downward, fixed on the sooty ground, and a long claw tapped an uneven rhythm against his arm as he considered his options.  Despite the win-win-win nature of the situation, at least in Starscream’s mind, Megatron still remained woefully unconvinced. After a long moment, bright red eyes met Starscream’s own.  

“What do you get out of this?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You, Starscream,” he said, unfolding his arms and striding closer.  “I’m still waiting for a satisfactory answer. You’re very invested in our union, after all - I can tell that much, but I don’t understand why.  Why would you work against Vos and the Senate, when doing so poses such a huge risk.”

“It’s not so risky as you might think,” Starscream laughed, drumming his talons playfully across Megatron’s chest - a light gesture that surprised the hulking tyrant.  He was so cute when he was caught off-guard. “And I do have my very  _ personal _ reasons,” he admitted, giving a flirty flick of his wings for good measure, and revelling in the way Megatron’s eyes followed him - entranced.  “I can say more once we’re properly allied, but for now, all you need to know is that I’ve calculated the risks, and have determined that myself personally, and Vos in general, are safer working with you, than with the Senate.  And to ensure our continued safety, I will put everything I have into making this alliance work.

“It’s a good deal, Megatron.  I’ll give you Vos, I’ll give you wings, and in return, all I ask is the opportunity to serve you.”  How strange it was, that Megatron had managed to force a stony face all the way until the end.  _ So, he really is another big mech who likes to be told he’s important. _  Starscream was well-acquainted with the type; he’d been playing them for years.  If he could wrap Zeta Prime, with his alleged ‘wisdom of the ancients,’ around his talon, then this mech would be a breeze.  Starscream’s smile widened - not a smirk - smirking was reserved for mutual scheming and in-jokes. Megatron needed to believe him honest and amenable, and what better way to project such an attitude, than with an innocent smile?  Megatron may not believe it, but if the look in his eye was anything to go by, it certainly affected him in other ways. 

“I do hope that I’ve presented my case well,” he continued, wide-eyed and youthful as he could manage.  Megatron had gone back to staring at his wings, as though too embarrassed to meet his eyes; Starscream gave them another flick for good measure, and cackled internally at the way Megatron flinched.  “If there’s anything more you would like to know, within reason, I am eager to provide.”

A silence lingered for a long moment; at first, Starscream wasn’t certain that Megatron had even processed his request, but no - his frame began to relax, his eyes drifted back down to meet Starscream’s saccharine expression, and a smile came to his lips - not the predatory grin from before, but something enthusiastic, eager even.

“No, Starscream, I think I’ve heard everything I need to hear for the moment.”

“Of course,” Starscream said, bowing his head and stepping back.  “Then will you be requiring time to deliberate? Or perhaps consult your advisors?  We can schedule another rendezvous.”

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Then you’ve made your decision?”  He had, and Starscream knew what it would be; but formalities were important.

“If you can do as you’ve promised - provide my Decepticons with this alleged flight coding, and spearhead the negotiations, then I think that an alliance between our factions will be mutually beneficial.”  He extended a hand, bigger than Starscream’s head, and Starscream took it, wincing at the titan’s strong grip.

“I look forward to our partnership.”


	3. Starscream's Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream has given Megatron the gift of flight. It's up to Megatron as to how he will use it.

Starscream was good as his word, at least Megatron could say that much about him.  He’d shown up in lower Kaon two days later with several data tablets filled with the promised information - the exact means of transforming a ground-based frame into a functional flier.  Megatron had deposited the information with Hook and Shockwave, counting on them to perform the majority of the reformattings, and judging by early reactions, there wouldn’t be an insignificant number of them.  

Despite the inherent risk in letting a mech like Shockwave, or even Hook’s team, into one’s head, pride in the cause was winning out.  Fliers were simply more versatile, more useful in warfare than the Speedsters, Transports, and Industrial Builds, and that aside, what Grounder didn’t dream of flight?  Actual War Frames, by and large, remained the same, but by the week’s end, a good half of the Decepticon forces stationed in Kaon proper had signed up for the new coding.  Whatever his motivations, Megatron couldn’t deny that Starscream’s gift was proving successful.

_ Provided it works as intended. _

Shockwave had probed every line of the code and found nothing suspicious within, though his persistence in the matter did lead Megatron to wonder just when that mech found time to recharge.

“I keep relatively normal hours,” Shockwave explained when pressed.  “Improper recharge can lead to lapses in judgment and increased mistakes; I never go without if I can help it.  My productivity comes from my optimized efficiency, no more, no less. But you didn’t come all the way out here to discuss my sleeping habits, so what would you like to talk about?  The ground bridge progress, the aerial reformatting station progress, or Soundwave?”

It had been days since his last visit, and Soundwave was still in pieces on the operating table.

_ Why haven’t you fixed him yet?! _ Megatron wanted to say, but he already knew the answer.  Soundwave would remain in his current state until Megatron was able to make up his own mind.  Besides, it was clear that Shockwave was busy; Soundwave’s recovery was probably the least of his concerns right now.

“Let’s start with the ground bridge network,” Megatron said.

“Of course.”  Shockwave backed away, to a terminal in a poorly-lit corner of the operating room.  Megatron made to follow, but Shockwave stopped him short. “Please remain where you are.  There is not much room in here to begin with, and of late, I’ve been performing most of my general duties in here as well, which has added to the clutter.  It will be easier for me if a mech of your size doesn’t try to navigate it.”

Megatron wanted to protest, but ultimately decided against it.  Shockwave always did what was most logical; it was senseless to argue with him.

“The Constructicons have been diligently following my specifications in regards to establishing a ground bridge terminal for Decepticon use.  Currently, it stands seventy-five percent completed; it is likely to be finished within two weeks time. From there, I will have easy access to my personal laboratory in Tarn, which will facilitate faster turnaround on our special projects, and will be a far more stable environment for the reformatting than what is available to us in Kaon.”

That was new.  “Are you saying that we are to wait until we have quick access to your lab in Kaon before we can even get started with the reformatting?”  He’d been under the impression that it would be a quick transition; certainly that was what he’d sold his troops.

Shockwave shook his head.  “Not quite. While the ground bridge is priority one, I have been making preparations to ease the transition - the software aspect has been easy for me to work on when I need a break from the space bridge, and the process will not require much in the way of hardware that I do not already possess, though it would not be a bad idea to send some scrap collectors out to fetch some extra metal.  Wings do take up more space than the average Grounder’s kibble.”

“How long do you expect this to take, Shockwave?  We need to move quickly - to press our brief advantage over the Senate for as long as we can.”

“Once the ground bridge has been completed, and I have quick access to my laboratory, I don’t anticipate this process taking more than two or three days to set up, at which point, the first wave of volunteers will be able to undergo the transition.”

“Two weeks,” Megatron groaned.  It wasn’t much time at all, but when every minute mattered, it was an eternity.  With Soundwave still out of the picture, the transfer of information regarding their enemies was distressingly slow.  He had a small network of spies - Decepticons stranded in Iacon, in Polihex, and Uraya, who still maintained the line of contact they’d established long before Megatron had come to them in person.  But while knowledge of the state of affairs in the north was helpful, it was nothing compared to being inside the walls of the Crystal City, and not one of his informants had managed to maneuver themselves into such a useful position.

“Yes,” Shockwave agreed, “and some change.  But you need not worry about it. The ground bridge will take as long as it takes.  You would do better to focus on that which you can personally affect.”

“I suppose.”  Megatron wasn’t happy about it, but Shockwave was right.  He usually was. “So, that covers the ground bridge and the reformatting, what do you have to tell me about Soundwave?”

Shockwave cast a telling glance at the mech, still in pieces on that dirty table.  It didn’t fill Megatron with much confidence.

“Shockwave?”

“I am doing everything I can for him.  Despite appearances, he has made marked improvement.  But I am fast reaching the point where there is nothing else I can do for him, unless I have a body to work with.  I don’t suppose you’ve had a chance to consult with his Symbionts? Or alternatively, decided upon an alt mod of your own volition?”

Megatron hadn’t.  Soundwave’s Symbionts were the best spies the Decepticons had available, at the moment.  While Deadlock had arranged the schedule so that at least one of the Minicons was on base with Soundwave at all times, Megatron hadn’t felt comfortable discussing the issue with Rumble, and was incapable of discussing it with Laserbeak.  The other two had yet to return. Admittedly, he hadn’t been too put off by this development. Deciding upon Soundwave’s fate for him still felt dreadfully wrong, but it seemed there was little time left to dawdle.

“You said that he needs a lighter weight class?”

“Yes.  No more than fifteen tons.  His spark is too damaged to maintain an incompatible frame right now.”

“What sort of frames fall into that range?”  Megatron was two weight classes above what Shockwave had requested; he was admittedly a little ignorant about builds smaller than himself.  They all seemed dreadfully fragile. “Speedsters? Light Transports? Two Wheelers? His original alt mode was, what, some sort of sound system?”

“Yes, but I don’t have the supplies to reconstruct his original alt mode.  Still, he need not be so lightweight as a Speedster. The average Speedster is only two tons, which is actually one weight class under what would be ideal.”

Megatron frowned, far from eager to be playing this guessing game.  How was he supposed to pick an alt mode from thin air? “Frag it all, Shockwave.  You know how he functions better than I. What would you recommend?”

“I admit, with all of the flight frame reformats on my mind, it’s hard to think of anything else.”

There was an idea.  He wasn’t sure whether or not Soundwave would approve of being reformatted as a flight frame, though he suspected that his right hand was no more attached to his current alt mode than Megatron himself was.  If his health barred him from being physically imposing, then there was likely no alt mode Soundwave would reject, so long as he could continue to do his job. “Are there any flight frames in that size class?”

Shockwave took a moment to consider it.  “I do believe there are, yes,” he said. “Your standard Seeker should fit neatly into the upper end of that particular weight class.  Perhaps you would like something akin to Vosian Ambassador Starscream?”

Megatron sputtered.  The thought of a dignified mech like Soundwave strutting about like that floozy was simply too much to bear.

“Or perhaps not,” Shockwave said, his tone neutral as ever.

“Soundwave is a spy,” Megatron insisted, trying his hardest not to picture his loyal right hand with the shapely legs, bouncy wings, and slendy curves of that Seeker.  He’d never admit it, but there was something despicably pleasing about the image. Pretty little Starscream, now pretty little Soundwave. He cringed at the thought; Soundwave deserved better than that.  “While he doesn’t often use his alt mode at the moment, I feel it might be beneficial to give him something that compliments his current job.” He hated how close to Functionism his words sounded in his audials.

_ It’s not Functionist.  There’s nothing Functionist about converting a ground frame to a flight frame.  Besides, he can always change again if need be. _  He wasn’t certain that he believed his own words, but he could at least pretend.

“I think I can come up with something,” Shockwave said after a moment.  “Standard alt mode or otherwise. It should present an interesting challenge at the very least.”

It was one less thing to worry about, even if it did feel so very wrong.

“Excellent, Shockwave,” he said, with far more enthusiasm than he felt.  “I am eager to see what you come up with.” With his business taken care of, Megatron began his exit, but Shockwave, it seemed, wasn’t finished just yet.

“Megatron?”

“Yes?”

“About our promise?”

The promise.  Once upon a time, Megatron had bargained with the late Senator Ratbat’s head engineer for Soundwave’s safe return, and Shockwave had been surprisingly eager to help, almost as though he’d been looking for an opportunity to betray his employer.  All he’d asked in return was that Megatron teach him to fight. 

“As soon as this reformatting business is squared away, I will teach you anything you desire.”

Shockwave was silent for a long moment, as though gauging Megatron’s integrity, but if he had any protest, he kept it to himself.  “Understood. I will dedicate my utmost attention to seeing this through.”

There was nothing more to discuss for the time being.  Megatron took his leave, retreating back into the musty corridors of the coliseum.  Soon, he would be back out there, facing the ever-needy masses - hundreds of bots vying for his attention, his approval; hundreds of bots needing his guidance and leadership.  It was all a little overwhelming, if he was being honest with himself, but he couldn’t afford to let himself think that way. Not now.

He had a plan - a plan delayed by two weeks, but a plan nonetheless.  Whether or not Starscream was trustworthy was debatable, but in this instance at least, Megatron was grateful.  Granting his downtrodden followers the power of flight was an effective strategy, not only for employment against the senate, but also for boosting morale.  It was a useful gift, and if the prissy ambassador had wanted to impress Megatron, he’d done a good job of it, at least so far. Two weeks would tell where his judgment of Starscream came down.


	4. Senator Ramjet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream must convince his king that joining forces with the Decepticons is the best course of action for Vos. He doesn't anticipate that it will be difficult.

“Starscream.”

The greeting was cruel, dark, accusing, and yet, was spoken with a strange sense of glee.  Starscream had done something wrong, and punishment was certain to soon follow. That was fine.  Over the years, Senator Ramjet had already done everything he possibly could have done to hurt Starscream.  There was nothing left to take away - nothing that he would dare risk losing, at any rate.

“Senator, to what do I owe this honor?”  Ramjet sat upon his throne, flanked on either side by his trinemates, Dirge and Thrust.  Starscream, stood at the doorway, alone and friendless. The summons had been for him, and only him, as though being alone at the mercy of the old coot could actually intimidate him.

“I hear you went to Kaon recently.  How was that? And approach, why don’t you?  I don’t wish to waste my voice yelling at you.”

Starscream did as commanded, careful not to show his amusement.  Ramjet never had been good with decorum - he was in charge; as far as he was concerned, he didn’t owe anyone anything.  “Yes, Kaon was - hmm, not nice - dirty, for the most part.”

“Dirty, of course.  And tell me, Starscream, do you make a habit of rolling around in the dirt?  Is this some perverse interest you’ve kept secret from me?”

What a dramatic aft.  “Only when it is to further my own personal interests,” he said, stopping just short of the throne, and offering an obligatory half-bow.  Ramjet didn’t seem to notice.

“Then I have to wonder, what interests, exactly, were you furthering by conspiring with the leader of the Decepticons?”

Starscream didn’t ask how Ramjet had found out about that.  Skywarp was a notorious blabbermouth. But this was not a conversation he’d been eager to have.  The Megatron situation was a delicate one, and he’d worked hard to make sure that the relationship came out in his favor.  The last thing he needed was for Ramjet to blunder in headfirst as he always did, and scare Megatron off. It was remarkably poor timing.

“Ah, that.  That is a matter of Vos’s survival,” Starscream said, smiling sweetly.  “We’ve always known that our place in the senate is tenuous. Well, _ I’ve _ always known anyway.  You would too, if you’d ever bothered showing up to the meetings.  They were planning to revoke the Treaty of Vos, you do realize this?”  ‘Planning’ was a strong word. It had been a threat without foundation, uttered by some nobody senator from Hydrax when Vos’s senator had failed to show for the third session in a row.  But Ramjet didn’t need to know that; this was Starscream’s game.

Ramjet said nothing at the accusation, but his lips did twist into a distinct frown.  Starscream took that as permission to continue.

“And after that whole sordid affair with Zeta, well, of course they were suspicious of our great nation.  I tried my hardest to pin his disappearance on the Decepticons, but it just didn’t stick. I mean, the Decepticons may have had the motive to dispose of that pompous windbag, but who would have had the means better than his own personal consort?”

Ramjet rolled his eyes.  “And whose fault is that?”

“You wanted him out of the way too,” Starscream protested.  It was true. Although abducting the miserable oaf that called himself Prime had been Starscream’s pet project, Ramjet had enthusiastically supported the plan to get rid of him.  After signing the treaty that brought Vos into the senate, Zeta had taken a special interest in the once off-limits nation, and that interest had translated to nothing but trouble for the long-independent Seekers.  It wasn’t hard to convince the proud King of Vos that the Prime needed to be taken down a peg.

Ramjet had no argument.  Instead, he changed the subject.  “Maybe so, but that is all the more reason for us to stay out of it.  The Senate may suspect us of involvement in the Zeta Prime fiasco, but they have far bigger things to worry about right now, wouldn’t you agree?  The Decepticons are the primary threat for the moment. All we have to do is let the two sides destroy each other, and then, once the dust settles, we can swoop in to claim supreme rule over all of Cybertron.”

Starscream would have laughed, if not for the fact that he very much needed to be in Ramjet’s good graces for the moment.  Alas, all he could do was protest with his words. “Oh sure, that would be a brilliant strategy, my lord, if not for the fact that we are officially allied with the side that poses the greater threat to us.”

Ramjet snorted.  “You’re paranoid, Starscream,” he said, though his voice lacked his earlier confidence.  It seemed that Starscream was getting through.

“Better paranoid than dead,” Starscream shot back, without missing a beat.  “Just think of it like this: if we remain on the side of the Senate, then we are obligated to provide them with support against the Decepticons.  Thus, if the Senate comes out on top, they may be weakened, but we too, will be weakened, which means, should they decide to come for us, well, there’s not much we’ll be able to do.  And if they are defeated, then we too, share in that defeat - and don’t think the Decepticons won’t see Vos as a threat that must be taken care of sooner than later. The loss of the Senate’s primary source of aerial support would be a devastating blow for the cause.

“On the other hand, should we support the Decepticons and they win, well, that will be the end of the traditionalism that sees our society as an exploitable commodity.  The Decepticons don’t want to rule, they simply want equality. Once they’ve won, we get our freedom back, perhaps we even get to expand our territory, and the Zeta affair will be long forgotten.”

“And if they lose?” Ramjet prompted.

“Then we lose as well,” Starscream shrugged.  “But the point I’m trying to make is that, while backing the losing side will do us no favors, a Decepticon victory will be far more to our benefit than a Senate victory.”

Ramjet took a moment to think this over, but it seemed he wasn’t quite convinced yet.  “You’re assuming that Decepticons stand a chance against the might of the Senate.”

“And you’re dismissing the might of your own army,” Starscream retorted, earning an affronted glare from his king.  Appealing to Ramjet’s sense of pride was the best way to win any argument. “Flight is not a gift shared by many mechs, and thus, whoever we chose to fight for has the advantage.  If we continue to back the Senate, then of course the Senate will win, but if we throw our lot in with the Decepticons, well, a noble cause and superior firepower aren’t the ingredients for failure, if you ask me.”

It was clear from the look on Ramjet’s face that Starscream had won.  The king of Vos had never been a strategist, had never been a deep thinker, or a ‘big picture’ sort of guy.  But Starscream was all of the above. Ramjet’s opinion had transformed itself to suit Starscream’s purposes, but as with every debate the king and the crown prince had shared in the past, it wasn’t so simple as winning the argument.  Ramjet would never allow himself to concede defeat so easily, but that was fine. A small victory was all Starscream required for the moment.

“I am not entirely convinced of the merits of your position,” Ramjet said slowly, “but I cannot deny that you’ve made some good points today.  I shall reflect on what our best course of action ought to be, and make my decision only once I’ve achieved clarity.” A fancy way of saying that he was going to keep right on being as useful winglets on a Tank - it wasn’t exactly surprising.  “However, so long as you remain discreet, I will allow you to continue your . . . manipulation of Megatron. With any luck, something good may come of it.”

That was all that Starscream needed to hear.  With a smug smile and a deep bow he said, “Thank you, Your Majesty.  You will not be disappointed.”

Inevitably, he would be, but not for any of the reasons he feared a Vosian-Decepticon alliance.  Ramjet was incompetent, and the last true obstacle standing between Vos and the greatness it deserved.  With the might of Megatron and his loyal followers at his command, Starscream would oust his maligned king, and take his rightful place on the throne.  Leadership belonged in the talons of a mech with ambition, and Starscream had no small supply. 

Everything was going according to plan.


	5. Vosian Sparks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron meets Starscream in a bar to discuss business. It does not go as planned.

Meeting with Starscream was the last thing Megatron wanted to do at the moment, but he’d long since learned that what he wanted mattered very little in the grand scheme of things.  He wanted the Senate to cave to his perfectly reasonable requests for equality. He wanted his right-hand mech up and about and happy. He wanted to have never thrown his lot in with that naive moron, Orion Pax.  Instead, he got this.

Starscream was leaning seductively against the bar, which may have been alluring had the bar not been long abandoned - unlit, and covered in a thin layer of grime

“Starscream,” he greeted, not even bothering to hide his distaste for the whole affair.

“Megatron.”  Starscream’s reply was far more chipper.  At least someone was happy to be here. With one graceful movement, Starscream pushed himself from the bar, and sauntered up to Megatron.  “You’re looking a little gloomy today. What’s wrong?” He traced a coy talon over the lines of Megatron’s chestplate, but the offending appendage was quickly brushed away.

“That is none of your business.”

“Please,” Starscream snorted, “I would hate to do business with a mech in a sour mood.”  His smile widened, and he sweetly folded his arms behind his back. “We want you at your best when it comes to making those decisions that are going to shape our future.”

“I haven’t been at my best in months,” Megatron groaned, but figured Starscream had a point.  Besides, if this mech was going to become the permanent fixture in the Decepticon army that he was trying to be, there was no sense in keeping secrets from him - at least not ones that could be easily found through other sources.

“Someone very close to me is . . . not doing well.”

Starscream’s smile vanished at the admission, but it was not a look of concern that followed.  What it was, Megatron struggled to say. Despite the incomprehensible words written across his face, however, Starscream managed to make real consolation come out of his mouth.  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Megatron snorted, finally moving away from the door, and taking a seat on one of the rickety stools at the bar.  It creaked under his great weight. “He’s been with me since the beginning - we planned this revolution together, he and I.  Every accomplishment we’ve made - I have him to thank for it. Pit, I’d be dead right now, if not for him.”

Starscream’s frame slid into view with a soft scraping sound; he’d planted himself atop the bar, for once forcing Megatron to look up in order to meet his gaze.  “Am I correct in assuming you’re talking about that dark mech from the Grand Oratory? The one with the - ah - weaponized sound?”

Megatron turned his attention back downwards, to a smudge of grease that stained the bar.  “Soundwave, yes.”

“Soundwave,” Starscream repeated, as though the word were poison.  “What a shame. You seem to care about him very much.”

“More than anything.”

Starscream didn’t seem to like that, if the sour look on his face was anything to go by.  It was nearly charming enough to lift Megatron’s dour spirits. “Jealous, Starscream?” he snorted, sitting up straighter, ready to at least make an effort at the cheer his temporary partner desired.

“O-of course not!” was Starscream’s predictable response.  “I’m here for business - nothing more.”

“Well then, on the subject of business, how is that treaty coming along?”

Not well, given the momentary look of panic in those pretty eyes.  Megatron would have been angry had that face been any less pleasing to behold.  

“It’s coming along,” was the strained answer.  Pity. Megatron would have accepted honesty. This transparent attempt to save face, however, was less desirable.

“Ramjet still won’t sign,” Megatron answered in Starscream’s stead, voice growing dark. “Why am I not surprised?”  He shifted in his seat, intending to get up, to leave the bar, to go back to where he belonged - to the mechs who had faith in him, and who he in turn could put his faith in.  It was clear that coming here had been a waste of time. However, an elegant hand slammed down atop his own, surprising his escape dead in its tracks. It was a comical sight, like a glitchmouse attacking a krystar iron-bear.  Baffled, and yet amused - Megatron turned to meet Starscream’s suddenly confident visage.

“He’s being intransigent,” Starscream said with a sly smile, “but it’s not as though this outcome is a surprise.  There are much better ways to deal with a stubborn Vosian king than weedling away at his sensibilities.”

“Is that so, Starscream?” Megatron returned a smile of his own, easily sliding his hand out from beneath Starscream’s, wrapping massive claws around that thin wrist, and squeezing until it felt like to burst.  Power in its rightful place - with the strong. For one satisfying moment, there was terror in Starscream’s eyes - terror, and something else, something akin to arousal. How . . . intriguing. 

Unfortunately, that titillating moment was quick to pass.  Starscream ripped his wrist out of Megatron’s grasp, and Megatron didn’t care to stop him.  

“If I’m being honest,” he said, forcing calm to his shaken voice.  “I don’t expect Senator Ramjet to sign that treaty anytime soon, but that’s fine.  For you see . . .” he leaned down, his confidence growing, and face close enough that Megatron could feel the flow of air on his lips, “the best way to claim Vosian sparks is to take them by brute force.”

And what a claim that was.  Megatron’s claws twitched with the desire, the  _ need  _ to put this advice to the test on the mech in front of him.  He wanted to grab that slender mech by the throat, bend him over the bar, and ‘claim his spark,’ as it were, right then and there.  Judging by the way Starscream had been acting, he may have even enjoyed such an outcome. But Megatron was not so base a mech as to fall prey to his own lustful thoughts so easily.  There were more important things on the line right now. And so, he made no move against the Seeker, instead maintaining a careful, stony eye contact.

For a long moment, the pair remained unmoving, Starscream’s words hanging in the air like a challenge.  But it was a challenge Megatron was not ready to take. With a heavy sigh, he at last shook his head and rose to his feet.  He was done with this miserable mech and his mind games. 

“Megatron?” Starscream asked, curious and ever so haughty.  Megatron hated it.

“Are you suggesting we invade Vos?  Because that is not what I signed up for.”  Ignoring the incredibly flirty delivery, that was very much what this conversation sounded like.  Starscream couldn’t do as he promised, so now he wanted Megatron to do it for him, to waste time and resources attacking a mountain fortress with a barely-trained army and the Senate on his heels.  Trusting this devious mech truly had been a mistake.

It seemed Starscream was unwilling to let him leave so easily, however.  He hopped off the bar, and approached once more, appearing every bit as large as he had been moments before, when he’d been seated above Megatron.  This manipulative mech had stolen way too much power in this conversation already; that would have to stop. “Please,” he scoffed, “it’s nothing so suicidal as that.  I happen to love my home very much.”

Megatron didn’t know what Starscream was hinting at, and he hated being left in the dark even more.  He waited for Starscream to provide even a modicum of elaboration, but he doubted that it would come.  The mech had done nothing but dance around the subject at hand since the day they’d met.

“There’s not much to do for it right now, but don’t worry.  We, the polity of Vos, are still on your side here.  _ Senator Ramjet _ may need some convincing, yes,” he said with a conspiratorial smile, “but the people are inclined to side with you.  A show of solidarity, and perhaps a political assassination . . .”

That was where Megatron drew the line.  With a sharp shake of his head, he made a break for the door.  Starscream didn’t bother giving chase. 

“In good time, Lord Megatron.  All in good time.”

He paused mid-step.  What was this horrid little creature getting at?  He had some sort of personal grudge against Senator Ramjet, Megatron had guessed that much, and it was equally clear that the mech intended to use the Decepticons towards his own ends.  What those ends were, however, was a mystery. Starscream had provided Megatron’s forces with plenty of gifts, but what cost would the Decepticons end up paying for them? Megatron didn’t want to find out.

“Do you know what I love about Soundwave?” he said at last, hoping to play on the only moment of weakness Starscream had expressed to this point.  To Megatron’s delight, Starscream took the bait.

“What would that be, my lord?” was the bitter reply.   _ Perfect! _

“I can trust him.”  And oh, how Starscream hated that answer.  His eyes widened, shocked and offended, and his wings gave a delightful bounce of frustration.  Still, when he got around to replying, he tried to play the whole thing off as a joke.

“And you can’t trust me?” Starscream laughed, his tone easily parsed as fake.

_ Point: Megatron.   _

“I can trust him to accomplish what he sets out to do.  I can trust him not to betray me. Can I say the same of you, Starscream?”  There was no reason to linger in this farce of a meeting any longer. Starscream had said what he’d come here to say.  To stay any longer would be granting that scheming Seeker unnecessary power. And so, Megatron slipped through the door and out into the Kaonian night.  Thankfully, Starscream didn’t follow.

That wretched mech had done much to belittle his own cause today.  His veneer of generous benefactor was beginning to rust away, revealing the cunning devil he truly was underneath.  It was detestable, if not unpredictable, and Megatron wanted no part in it.

_ Those eyes though.  Afraid of my strength and yet, aroused.  And those words . . . ‘’The best way to claim Vosian sparks is to take them by brute force.” _

Megatron shook his head.  He hated to admit it, but perhaps he wasn’t ready to be done with Starscream just yet.  Only time would tell. 

Who knew?  Maybe the little bastard would prove himself useful yet.


	6. Uncooperative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Starscream is not happy about being blown off.

Most of Vos had learned long ago to stay out of Starscream’s way when he was in one of his moods.  It was a pity; he really could have used something to kick right now. The nerve of that Megatron, rejecting  _ him _ ?!  He should have had him by now; he’d done everything right!  Megatron should be wrapped around his talon, and yet he was every bit as difficult as Senator Ramjet.

He stomped down the halls of the Vosian palace, passing not a soul as he traversed the long and winding route to his chambers.  Skywarp and Thundercracker were already waiting for him, standing on either side of his crystalline vanity, and preemptively grimacing at the impending explosion.

“The  _ nerve _ of that miserable ingrate!” Starscream howled, grabbing the first thing in reach, a Valvoluxian vase from the side table, and flinging it to the ground.  To his further frustration, it did not shatter.

“I take it your meeting with Megatron didn’t go so hot?” Skywarp ventured, well meaning, but incredibly foolish.  He had a second vase flung at his head for his efforts, though he teleported out of the way before it could hit him.

“What do you think?” Starscream hissed.

“Come now, Starscream.  Surely it didn’t go so poorly that you remained in a rage all the way back to Vos,” said Thundercracker.  Starscream glared, but the brunt of his temper had been spent already.

“Don’t patronize me, Thundercracker,” he said, but his voice had softened, and his wings had relaxed, no longer held aloft in his fury.  With a heavy sigh, he trudged to the bed and flopped down, face-first. Rightly cautious, his brothers made their way to either of his sides, staring down with two contradicting expressions - concern from one and annoyance from the other.

“You gonna spill the beans, or what?” Skywarp asked.  “I didn’t almost take a vase to the head just now for nothing.”

Starscream groaned and threw an arm over his optics, mostly so he wouldn’t have to look at anyone.  “He’s being uncooperative,” he groaned.

“Who?” asked Thundercracker.

“Ugh, whoever.  Megatron. Ramjet.   _ Everyone. _ ”

“Well, you did decide you wanted to manipulate two powerful, self-assured -”

“Yes, thank you, Thundercracker.  That is very helpful.” Starscream sat up, shaking out his wings, but still refused to look at his partners in crime.  “I know what I got myself into. That doesn’t mean I can’t be upset that this is taking far longer than I would like it to.”

“What exactly did ol’ Megsie do?” Skywarp asked.

“What didn’t he do?” Starscream groaned, but before Skywarp could come up with some undoubtedly stupid answer, he elaborated.  “He’s hung up on some old flame. More like  _ two _ old flames - we all know about him and Optimus.”

“Yeah, that’s messed up,” Skywarp snorted, at the same time that Thundercracker said, “Tragic.”  Starscream didn’t appreciate either answer. He shot a glare at both brothers.

“Yes, well, he’s put up this damn wall between himself and me.  Figures I’d have to come in on the tail end of the romantic disaster of the century.  I can’t get in close enough to work my magic, and if I can’t get in close, then there’s no way I’ll get into the position I need to be in for total control.”

“I can’t imagine why he’d be hesitant to give you that.”

“Shut up, Thundercracker.”  He was right though. Starscream only had himself to blame for biting off more than he could chew.  

“What about Ramjet?” Skywarp asked.

“What about him?”

“You said that he was being uncooperative.  How is he being uncooperative?”

“You’re serious?”  Starscream groaned, burying his face in a palm.  How did he get stuck with this moron of a trinemate?  “When has our beloved king ever  _ not _ been uncooperative?”

“Uhh . . .”

Starscream leaned in closer to Skywarp, grabbing him by the corner of his chestplate and dragging him in closer.  “The only reason we’re in this mess in the first place is because Ramjet is uncooperative.”

“Okay?”

 

“You don’t agree?”  Starscream released Skywarp with a shove.  “You don’t think that he’s done a nice job of destroying our lives - everything we worked for - everything we ever dreamed of?”

Skywarp and Thundercracker exchanged glances.

“I mean,” said Thundercracker, hesitantly, “that’s just kind of how the world is.  He’s a senator, and we’re the chosen consorts of the Prime.”

“Who is rotting in prison, thank the Allspark,” Starscream sniffed.  “Nevermind that it was Ramjet who chose us for the position.”

“At the Prime’s behest,” Thundercracker protested.  Starscream didn’t know why he bothered.

“Yeah?” Starscream scoffed.  “That’s very astute of you, Thundercracker.  I hadn’t been aware of such a fact before you oh-so helpfully pointed it out for me.”

“Starscrea -”

“Maybe it’s because getting the Prime out of the way didn’t do a damn thing to change our situation.  No - wait! Now we’re consorts of the  _ king _ instead of the Prime.  What a welcome change. I’m so glad we went through the trouble of getting Zeta out of the way for absolutely no benefit.”

“You’ve made your point,” Thundercracker sighed.  “Fine, Ramjet isn’t cooperating with this convoluted scheme you’ve got planned.  And neither is Megatron. And you’re angry about it. So what? It’s not like you can do any more than you’re already doing.”

“Yeah,” Skywarp agreed.  “TC is right. I know you got - like - ambition, or whatever, but bots like us was never meant to rule.  We’re just here to look pretty and follow orders. Maybe provide some air support? But yeah. If it was meant to be any other way, then we woulda been forged as royals.”

Starscream had had quite enough of that.  Well-meaning they may have been, but his brothers had never held the same level of ambition that had always driven Starscream.  Skywarp and Thundercracker were perfectly content to do as they were told, even if it meant giving up on every dream they’d ever dared to dream, and every person they’d ever dared to love.  They would never see eye to eye, and so they had to go.

“Out!” Starscream snapped, exaggerating his irritation.  “I want both of you out of here this instant!”

“But this is our room too,” Skywarp tried to protest, but Starscream wouldn’t hear a word of it.

“I don’t care.  You want to be a follower?  Then follow the commands of your betters, as you were forged to,” he sneered, pleased to turn the little suck-up’s words against him.  Skywarp couldn’t come up with a rebuttal to that.

“Come on, Skywarp,” Thundercracker sighed, grabbing him by a pauldron and dragging him away.  “Let Starscream throw his fit in peace. Neither of us need to be here for this.”

“I guess,” he reluctantly agreed, shaking off Thundercracker’s hand and following him out of the room.  Finally, Starscream had the room to himself. With that knowledge secured, he flung himself back onto the soft bed, throwing an elegant arm over his face to block out the light, and with any luck the stupidity deeply entrenched in the world around him.

Megatron had the right idea; speaking with his brothers only served as a reminder that Starscream had made the right choice.  Luck was a cruel mistress, and happenstance of birth had not treated Starscream well, even if he did happen to be lying on a luxury bed in the royal palace of one of the wealthiest polities on all of Cybertron.  What did it matter? It wasn’t where he wanted to be, and the price he’d paid for it was far too great. He shuddered as memories of Zeta Prime’s ugly mug danced across his mind, the smell of too-strong engex, the touch of too-cold hands on his frame.  Starscream was so much more than some prize to be oggled, some servant to attend to the carnal hungers of a corrupt Prime. No matter his ‘official’ job title, he was little more than a glorified pleasurebot.

It was demeaning, a waste of his great intellect and unmatched flight capability, and for this great honor, he’d only had to give up his own dreams.  

_ Bah! _

Yes, Megatron had the right idea indeed.  Brute force was the only true route to change.  Unfortunately for Starscream, he was a bit lacking in that department.  And that was why he needed Megatron - a young revolutionary with big dreams, and even bigger blind spots.  If Starscream could just figure out how to squeeze himself into one of them, he’d be set, and he was beginning to see just how he’d set about doing so.

If he’d learned anything from their previous disaster of a conversation, it was that Megatron was prone to lustful urges, specifically, lustful urges directed at Starscream.  Whatever relationship he had with his comatose right-hand mech was irrelevant. Loyal, the fool may have been, but no one had as much experience at being a consort to the mighty than Starscream.  As much as he hated the position, if becoming Megatron’s lover was what it took to make his own mark on the future of their planet, then that was what he’d do. And if ever he reached the point where Megatron got in the way of those goals, then all he’d have to do was kill him.  He’d already dispatched one tyrannical ruler, what was one more?

Starscream frowned, moving his arm aside to gaze at the star-studded canopy above him.  Somehow, the thought of killing Megatron filled him with unease, though he couldn’t say why.  With a shake of his head, he sat back up, stretched his wings, and crawled out of the bed. This hypothetical future didn’t matter, and for the moment, he didn’t care to think about it.  There were other things to focus on, more immediate issues. 

It was time to go ingratiate himself to Ramjet.


	7. Loyalty Rewarded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megatron wants to remain faithful to Soundwave, but it is getting harder.

It was hard to stay faithful, Megatron was finding.  Sure, he wanted to - with all of his spark, he wanted to.  He was well aware of Soundwave’s feelings for him, how much his trusted right-hand mech had sacrificed for their shared cause, how deep his dedication ran, and just how much Megatron needed him in return.  And he loved Soundwave, truly he did. Without Soundwave, there was no Decepticon movement. Without the stability he provided, and the behind-the-scenes work he was a master of, Megatron would have been no more than a gladiator forever relegated spewing pretty words in the pits of Kaon.  Soundwave deserved the world, and more, he deserved all of Megatron’s spark.

And yet, Soundwave was still unconscious.  Yes, his current state was almost entirely the result of saving Megatron (and the cause) from his own mistakes; Megatron deserved to suffer for what had happened.  Knowing what was just and right, however, did nothing to stave off the feelings of loneliness, let alone the feelings of lust. The fact of the matter was that Starscream was here, and Starscream was actively trying to seduce him, at least he was pretty certain by this point.

The mech had become a regular presence in Kaon in recent weeks, providing Megatron with daily updates as to his progress with Ramjet, and even the occasional update from the Senate, whom the polity of Vos hadn’t officially cut ties with yet.  It was helpful to have a mech on the inside, especially when the usual impeccable intelligence provided by his right-hand bot was currently unavailable.

“There’s a lot of infighting right now,” Starscream admitted, his frame strangely hunched and servile.  “It’s to be expected, really. They could never agree on anything  _ before _ half the planet turned on them.  Now it’s worse than ever.”

“Is that so?” said Megatron, feigning disinterest.  This was important information to know, of course, but he also found himself enjoying the way Starscream amped up the fawning when he thought Megatron wasn’t reacting in the proper way.

“Yes, my lord!  If ever there was a front where we had the clear advantage over the Senate, it would be in our cohesion.  All of us have chosen to follow you. You are, after all, a mighty warrior, and an even mightier speaker!”

_ Do go on, Starscream. _

“The Senate powerhouses - Proteus, Decimus, and Crosscut are typically in agreement with one another, but outliers like Botanica, Sherma, and Scorponok are less willing to call their own polities to take up arms, and that’s to say nothing of the Prime, who is not quite the puppet they were expecting him to be, it would seem.  Not that I have anything good to say about that traitor!” he hastened to add, his voice raising in pitch.

Oh, Megatron’s teeth were bared.  That was the likely reason. 

“I care not about Optimus Prime,” he said, forcing evenness to his voice, which threatened to reveal the obvious lie.  He wasn’t entirely convinced Starscream fell for it.

“Of course not, my lord.  The only reason I bring up our ever-so detestable enemy is to highlight just what a chaotic state the Senate lies in right now.  Oh, if only you could see how easily they fall apart! Your reign will bring some much-needed stability to Cybertron, mark my words!”

Megatron frowned.  “It was never my intention to rule Cybertron.”  Even he wasn’t so foolish to think a single mech capable of ruling over the entirety of Cybertron.  Hundreds of thousands of mechs whose futures depended on his decision-making? He could barely wrangle the thousands he was already responsible for.

Starscream, however, seemed to think otherwise.  “No? Are you certain, my lord? I think you would be more than capable of such an undertaking.”

“Do you?” Megatron snorted.  “Tell me, Starscream, why you would think such an absurd thing?”

To his surprise, Starscream let his submissive facade slip, for just a moment.  He chuckled deeply in his throat, a sound that implied a cunning that stood counter to the words he spoke.  “Forgive me for saying, but you haven’t seen, first-hand, the way this planet is ruled - not like I have. So many dissenting voices, so much bureaucracy, battling egos, corruption.  Half of the senators don’t even bother to pretend to represent the interests of their citizens. But one mech in charge? One mech with the power to maintain his position, the wisdom to see through treachery, and the charisma to sway the planet to his side?  So much good could come of such a thing. It’s a change long overdue, I think.”

It sounded like an honest statement, though coming from Starscream, it was difficult to discern the level of sincerity.  Still, Megatron hadn’t spent much time considering such controversial thoughts. Until recently, his primary goal had been nothing more than convincing the Senate to change their ways.  After the disaster at the Grand Oratory, he’d been far more preoccupied with the logistics of running a full-scale war, rather than a guerilla rebellion, least of all without Soundwave’s help, to consider any long-term options.  But when Starscream spoke of a Cybertron under the rule of one hand, specifically Megatron’s hand, it all sounded so very appealing.

He couldn’t help but admire the mech’s ruthlessness.  He was passionate, cunning, and to an extent, a dreamer.  He’d clearly put much thought into his plans for the future, regardless of how much of them he chose to divulge to Megatron.  It was, Megatron hated to admit, attractive, in a way that he’d never experienced before.

Megatron was a mech prone to flights of passion; he was a gladiator, and a miner before that - two professions that left him with no guarantee that he’d live to see tomorrow, let alone time to make elaborate plans for a future that may not come.  He’d grown up in an environment where the only option was to live in the moment - to take what he wanted, when he wanted. He’d been with dozens, perhaps hundreds of mechs in his lifetime. Sometimes it was a tryst that lasted a few years, sometimes a mere night, but it was never anything serious.

Falling in with Soundwave had changed him, but there were no mechs that could compare to Soundwave.  He was capable beyond measure, powerful, intelligent, thoughtful, and more devoted than Megatron could have ever imagined a mech could be.  Megatron hadn’t exactly stopped paying attention to other mechs after throwing in his lot with Soundwave, but he had started feeling guilty for it.  Truth be told, he’d wanted to be loyal to Soundwave.

And then Orion Pax had arrived in Kaon and swept him off his feet.  He was like Soundwave in so many ways - capable, intelligent, devoted even - but unlike Soundwave, he hadn’t been tarnished by the poison of the Underground.  He’d been bright and hopeful; he could believe the best in people, and plan for a better tomorrow - even Soundwave had never been able to plan for more than an adequate tomorrow.  As much as he hated to admit it, Orion had cast a spell over Megatron, and everyone and everything else had fallen by the wayside.

Orion Pax -  _ Optimus Prime _ \- however, was gone now.  And Soundwave was too, in a way.  But right here, right now, Starscream was the most influential mech in his life.

Starscream had ambition.  Starscream had passion. And Starscream had fire.  He was about as different from Soundwave as could be, and Optimus as well.  And yet, Megatron could feel himself falling for that conniving little wretch.  Precisely because he was so unlike Megatron’s previous interests, perhaps. 

He’d had his fill of devotion and tranquility as of late.  Optimus had soured so many of the traits that Megatron had once held dear in an intimate acquaintance.  Right now, Megatron needed something different, something loud, and self-serving, and outspoken, and those shapely legs and enticing wings didn’t hurt . . .

“It’s enticing, isn’t it?” Starscream asked, eerily echoing his own thoughts.  He hoped his inopportune lust hadn’t shone through on his face. He couldn’t take Starscream having even that much power over him.

“I don’t know if ‘enticing’ is the word I’d use,” he admitted, “but it doesn’t sound entirely horrible.”

Starscream snickered,  clearly seeing through the lie.  “Of course, my lord.” He sauntered closer, until he was standing at Megatron’s makeshift throne.  Megatron didn’t miss the way he casually allowed his talons to brush against his hip either. What did he think he was pulling?

_ And why was it so effective? _

“What is your game, Starscream?”  He figured being upfront was the best course of action.

Indeed, poor Starscream flinched, caught off-guard.  He didn’t remain that way for long, however. Soon enough, he was circling Megatron with that same smarmy smile in his voice.  “I confess, you’ve seen right through me. Yes, Lord Megatron, I am, indeed playing a game. A game where I create the kind of world that I would quite like to live in, and perhaps kill off a few of my enemies at the same time, all by helping your little rebellion get off the ground.

“But what do you think, my lord?” he asked, at last reaching Megatron’s front, and running a talon down his jaw.  It was far more affecting than it had any business being. Megatron couldn’t suppress the slight shudder that wracked his frame at the contact.  “Have I not served you well?”

He should have fought harder, should have resisted the sway of this pathetic, fragile mech before him.  And yet, Starscream had a power of his own - not in the might of his frame, but in its sensuality. As if of its own accord, Megatron’s hand shot out, wrapping itself around Starscream’s slender wrist, and pulling him in close, into his lap.  The squawk of alarm he made was beautiful to behold, but he did manage to compose himself quickly enough.

“Lord Megatron?” he questioned, with a surprising amount of dignity for a mech not standing on the ground.

“You have served me well thus far, Starscream,” Megatron chuckled.  “But there is always room for improvement.” He leaned in close, his fangs bared, until his face was buried in Starscream’s throat.  He nibbled at the sensitive cables, lapped at the thin trickles of energon that rewarded his efforts. Somewhere far away, Starscream moaned, urging him onward.  His claws tightened around Starscream’s wrist, and his free hand found its way to a scrawny arm, offering it the same treatment.

His frame was beginning to grow hot - his vents opened, fans roaring with their need, and Starscream responded in kind.  The next thing he knew, his frame was shifting in the throne, until Starscream was pinned firmly beneath him - right where he belonged.  Primus, this was all so intoxicating - seeing that wiry, trembling form hunched on the seat of the throne; feeling the heat of his fuselage against his own frame, the passionate screaming of his EM field.  This was going to be so good.

But then, he hesitated.  Starscream was alluring, no doubt, but he was also  _ Starscream _ .  This mech was a newcomer, untrusted, untested.  Should he proceed with what his frame so desperately yearned for him to do, he would be driving a dagger into the spark of the mech he’d already sworn himself to - the mech who had been by his side from the beginning.  Starscream may have deserved this, but Soundwave didn’t.

“Lord Megatron?”  Those bright red eyes were looking up at him, bright but questioning.

“I can’t.”  Megatron backed away, leaving a baffled Starscream alone on the throne.

“What?” Starscream squawked.  “What do you mean you can’t?”

“It’s not right.  I can’t do that to Soundwave.”

“You can’t do that to - ugh.”  Starscream righted himself in the chair in a frustrated groan.  “Please, Lord Megatron. I do wish you’d stop pining over what’s-his-name and focus on the greatness that stands before you now!”

Starscream would have done better to keep his mouth shut, but at least it made what Megatron needed to do much easier.

“Get out of here.”

“What?”

Megatron had tried to keep his voice level, civil, so as not to completely scare off Starscream, but it was growing more difficult the longer he remained in that vile presence.  ‘What’s-his-name’ indeed! “Get. Out.” This time, Megatron whirled around, fire in his eyes, and a snarl on his lips. 

Rather than leave, however, Starscream only sank further into the throne, his wings trembling, his optics wide and bright, terrified.  “Master?”

Megatron froze, his spark racing, his fuel pump forcing energon straight down.  How had one little word from this imbecile gotten him so weak?

It wasn’t so unusual.  Starscream was small, slender, practically delicate - on the whole, he was weak.  His kind was doomed to be pushed around, claimed and conquered by those more powerful, and he knew it.  And yet, here he was, with one word alone, offering himself up to Megatron, acknowledging his power, making a plea for his protection.  It was a powerful sensation, and one that Megatron couldn’t help but linger in.

But as much as Megatron wanted to act upon the urges that Starscream had awakened in him, doing so was simply not possible - not after the way he’d treated Soundwave, indirectly or otherwise.  It was thus, that though Megatron’s spark was roaring in his audial, demanding that he take action, that Megatron fell back, stilled his frame, and forced himself to calm down.

“Watch your tongue.”  He wanted this conversation to be done with; he wanted to go back to Shockwave’s lab and stand guard over what was left of Soundwave; he wanted to make Starscream feel as small and pitiful as he truly was.  

Well, there wasn’t exactly anything stopping him from doing all three.

“You’d do well to not speak on matters of which you know nothing about.  And to show a degree of respect to those deserving of it.  _ Soundwave _ , whom you so flippantly dare to speak of, is one hundred times the mech you will ever be.  Do not fool yourself into thinking you could ever replace him in my eyes.” 

He didn’t care that this was technically his room, and that rightfully, he should be kicking Starscream to the curb.  Let him stew in his mess. Megatron had more important things to do anyway.

And so, he turned on his heel and stomped out the door, not even bothering to take in the look on Starscream’s face.  He didn’t need to see it to know just how badly he’d wrecked the little parasite.

_ All is as it should be, then. _

He had a faithful right-hand mech to see.


End file.
